At Bay
by DeniseV
Summary: Trust Metric had Colby in the hospital with that oxygen mask on. He looked so vulnerable. This is a missing scene with some of the team going to visit him the next day in his hospital room. An important member of the team is conspicuously absent.


"Oh, Agent Eppes. Could I talk to you before you go in?"

FBI Agent and head of the FBI's Violent Crimes Squad in Los Angeles, Don Eppes, stopped short. He'd been heading with FBI psychological profiler Megan Reeves to visit with their colleague in the hospital, a mix of concern and perplexity written on his face. Concern because in spite of all that had happened, he still considered Colby a friend. . .he had to be there for this man who had grown nearly as close as a brother. Perplexity because he still could not fathom how he'd missed the signs; it was simple and convincing proof that FBI Agent Colby Granger had been well-suited for the role he'd played these last two years. David Sinclair had also been vexing him these last days. Eppes knew he would have to tackle _that_ problem once he'd worked out this one. It was pretty obvious that an explosion would come; Don worried that the longer David kept himself at bay, the uglier that explosion might be. Eppes hoped he'd have the skills as a manager to mitigate the damage that such a confrontation would inevitably result in.

Megan and David had been in the previous day. They'd been told, or rather, Megan had been told that it seemed unlikely that Colby would wake until this morning. David had chosen not to hang around, his feelings on the subject of his partner a whirl of mixed-up emotions. In Don's mind, David had made the right call in making himself scarce; Granger would have enough to deal with in his recovery without having to decipher his partner's silent stares of disappointment. Colby would be facing those stares and the ramifications of his actions soon enough.

Don had stopped in late last night and had been told that Colby would likely be out of the oxygen mask and into a canula by this morning. He slept as Don left, but Eppes knew Granger well enough to sense disturbed sleep when he saw it.

"Yes, Janet. Is he okay?" Don asked worriedly.

"Well, yes, but things haven't gone quite as planned. I know the doctor talked about Mr. Granger being better today, but I just wanted to warn you that he's had a small setback. The doctor was here just a while ago and he will be coming back in a little bit if you want to speak with him."

"What happened?" Don asked. "I thought he just had to get the drugs out of his system."

"I'll walk you to his room and explain. The best thing for him right now is rest, as I know the doctor explained. And keeping the oxygen going strong and steady." They only had to go a short distance before they were in front of Granger's room. "Go ahead in," Nurse Janet Fischer suggested as she opened the door for Don and Megan. They'd been unable to get a good look at Colby from the window as the light had been dimmed low in his room. "The doctor suggested that we turn the lights down. He thought it might help calm him and help keep him asleep."

"He's been awake?" Megan asked as she stepped close to the bed. "Oh, Colby," she sighed as she saw her friend's face. He had an obvious flush of red on his temple and high on his cheeks. Sweat formed on his forehead, and moisture could be seen all around the oxygen mask, not the nasal canula as Don had been expecting to see. And though he seemed to be soundly asleep, there also appeared to be a slight hitch in his breathing.

"Briefly," Janet explained in hushed tones. "He tried to remove his oxygen mask when he woke up. We had to fight him, but he expended a lot of energy doing that, and his breathing was distressed for sometime after. Overnight he developed the fever. We're not really sure where that's coming from, it could be the beginnings of pneumonia, but we also don't know all of the effects all those drugs they pumped into him will have on him. And he was on a mild sedative, which the doctors thought would be fine to do, despite the dangers of introducing more drugs into his system. The doctor has canceled the sedative for now. They want him awake to do some neuro checks sometime today."

Don walked up to his agent's left side, put his hand on Colby's forehead and said, "Like he hasn't gone through enough."

Janet looked at the dark-haired man with compassion. "He needs to keep the oxygen mask on. That's the most important thing, if he wakes up. We're not expecting him to," the nurse noted, "not until later this morning."

"You don't know Colby Granger," Megan said with a smile.

Janet could see worry in the faces of these two visitors, but she sensed something else was going on as well. It was impossible not to notice the stress, but even stress did not answer for their behavior. There was something else. . .she couldn't put her finger on it. But that wasn't her puzzle to solve. She went on. "The oxygen should start to make his breathing even out, but the doctor is coming back to check on that; he's worried that if his breathing keeps on like this that he could develop pneumonia. Remember, just an hour, please," she said as she left.

"Damn it," Don uttered as he removed his hand, finally. "I wish. . ."

"You wish he hadn't done this," Megan suggested.

"I wish he'd come to me. I thought. . ." Don stopped, not really wanting to sound bitter. David was covering that area well enough for all of them.

"Don't. We can't know the pressures he was under. But we know Colby. Or the Colby we knew would only do this if he felt he had to." Megan took the cloth sitting in the bowl of water on the rolling over-bed table and squeezed out the excess. She took the damp cloth and wiped the sweat from Colby's brow, and then washed his face of the sweat that had accumulated there, gently holding the oxygen mask in place as she did so. "I think he is a good man, a patriot. I want to believe that."

"Well, I think so, too, but we need to know more." Don looked at Megan and received a sympathetic look in return. She knew it was hard for him to let his feelings dictate anything, that as a man – as an FBI man, at that – he was disinclined to allow his emotions to factor in to his actions. Don Eppes was more likely to rely on facts and evidence; in this way he was much like his brother, though emotion was something Charlie Eppes wore on his sleeve. That was not to say that Don wasn't a sympathetic man: Megan could see her friend's empathy for the other quite clearly. She watched him look back at their sick friend and say, "He almost died for this mission."

"Yep, he did. I think that says an awful lot, don't you."

"Maybe. I think Colby would give his life for anything he believed in. And I believed that he was spying for China." Don shook his head miserably.

"Maybe you did, but I could see you denying what your eyes and the evidence proved, or seemed to prove. I could see it every minute since we found his name on that list. The evidence seemed pretty damning, but I could still see it, in your eyes."

"I didn't want to believe. . ." Don stopped. He wouldn't believe it, not anymore. He just wanted Colby to be better, to give him another chance with the team. Granger was a good agent, a good friend. At least he had been. And seeing him not breathing, with David performing CPR. . .the regrets that flooded his being at the thought that Colby Granger might die before this whole thing could have been sorted out. . .he was grateful now, standing here with the hope that Colby's reputation would be restored, as would his place on the team. And as Don's friend.

Megan and Don both turned to the man in the bed when they heard him moan. The breathing did seem a little easier since they had been in the room. Colby blinked his eyes slowly, no recognition yet that he was in a hospital, or that Don and Megan were by his side. The breathing became irregular suddenly as he tried to remove the oxygen mask.

"Colby, Colby, calm down. Everything's fine. You're in the hospital." The ailing agent still tried to move his hands to the mask. Megan took his right hand and Don held his left arm down on the bed. Colby breathed heavier and started to speak.

"Let me go."

"No. Colby." Don was getting nowhere. He held on to his friend's hand with his own right hand and grabbed Colby's chin firmly but carefully with his left. He knew that one of the drugs his agent had been given had the effect of enhancing every touch, likely to the point of pain. He regretted having to be so physical, knowing that fact, but he also knew that he needed to keep his friend calm. "Granger!" he yelled, looking the man dead in the eyes. Colby's eyes grew large, but recognition was almost instantaneous.

"Don," he choked through the mask.

"Yeah, it's me. Megan's here, too," Don said, nodding his head across the bed to the tall, pretty agent. Colby looked and then blinked, a lot, as though trying to keep tears from falling. "You're gonna be fine," Don said.

"How. . .didn't. . .Lancer. . ." Colby stuttered slowly. Don finished the thought for his friend.

"Yeah, Lancer got the needle in, but David pulled it out." Don Eppes decided that the rest of the story, about how Colby's heart had stopped and how David fought so hard to get it back, the fact that he'd arrived at the hospital in critical condition and that they were still unsure about how the drugs in his system might still react – all of that could wait. So could the fact that they were unlikely to see David Sinclair back here before Colby was released, even though that would be the one person he would ask for, once he was lucid. "You're okay."

Colby closed his eyes and managed, "I don't feel okay." He breathed in and out carefully. To Megan, the breaths seemed to bring pain. She shared a glance with Don. "Can't I take this off for a minute?" he asked. They found it easier to understand their friend through the mask than expected, though to be fair, they all had more than enough experience deciphering each other in these kinds of situations. Far, far more than enough.

"Sorry, buddy, but you've got to keep it on. The drugs Lancer gave you compromised your heart and your lungs. You didn't help yourself when you woke up earlier," Don added.

"I woke up before?" Colby asked weakly. "Don't remember."

Megan sat down on the edge of the bed and took Granger's hand in both of hers. "That's not surprising. You've still got those drugs in your body. You didn't know what you were doing," she said softly.

Colby wasn't sure that Megan wasn't talking about what he'd been doing the last two years. He figured that denial would serve him well just then, ignored what Megan said, and concentrated on his body, which didn't seem to be doing so hot. "How come. . .pressure. . ." he said as he pulled his hand from Megan's, the one without the IV set-up, and placed it on his chest.

"The doctors think you might have an infection," Don vaguely offered.

"Pneumonia?" Granger asked.

"Not yet." Don thought better about lying. "Maybe. Don't worry, just rest," Colby's boss added.

"Don," Colby said, blinking rapidly. "I'm sorry." The bed-ridden agent took his hand from his chest and wiped at his eyes.

"Colby, seriously, man, I don't want you to worry about anything but getting better. We'll deal with the rest of it when you get out of here."

"I. . .I didn't have a choice," Colby continued, guilt in evidence despite the weakness of his voice, or the merits of the case that he shouldn't be trying to make right now. But now was the time that he chose, determined to give testimony. Fortunately for his own health, neither Don nor Megan was willing to allow it.

"Colby," Megan pleaded. "You need to rest. What happened to you. . .you were tortured, and those drugs could have killed you. They nearly did. Now stop this. Relax. They're gonna know we excited you too much by those readings," she explained as she nodded to the medical equipment that surrounded them. "They're gonna kick us out."

"Sorry," Colby said, his lids growing heavy over glassy eyes. "I am tired." He breathed in a heavy, tentative breath. . .the pain was obvious. "Where's Dav'd?" he slurred in question.

"Don't fight it. Go to sleep," Don ordered. He disregarded the question Colby asked vis-à-vis the whereabouts of his partner.

"Lancer. . ." Colby asked, though he barely seemed awake enough to get the name out, let alone hear the fate of the man who tried to kill him.

"Dead," Don said with satisfaction.

"Dwayne?" Colby Granger added, though he was now well on his way to sleep. Don and Megan looked at each other, a joint, silent decision to ignore the question in the hope that their silence would help in getting their colleague back to sleep.

It worked. They knew they were postponing an inevitably painful conversation. But there was the right time and place for that conversation, which was later. Not here. Not now. And there was much mending of fences that would need to happen. Colby's recovery from these wounds, and from the psychological effects of the torture, would take time. He would need his friends. He and Megan would be there for him, as would Charlie and Amita, Larry and Alan. Don's family had grown particularly fond of the young man from Idaho. Don walked out of Colby's room, following Megan out, knowing that David Sinclair would be the determining factor in Colby Granger's road back. Don was willing to give David some time, understanding how hurt he was, how betrayed he felt by the lies that Colby had been forced into to keep his cover. But the fact was that Colby would need David to make it through the next days and weeks. Would David be able to look beyond his own bitter feelings and help the one man that he distrusted the most at that moment? Would he be able to give Colby the help he would need, despite Sinclair's own feeling that he no longer knew this man, that he was no longer a trusted friend and partner?

Where was Agent David Sinclair?

The End.


End file.
